As the choir sits down to its Christmas meal in the pub, Caruso, with festive hat at a jaunty angle, fumbles around with his music.
‘I think it’s time we had a song,’ he says.
Quick as mustard, Mr Putter steps up to the podium, rapidly dishing out photocopied sheets bearing the immortal words of Donald Where’s Yer Troosers.
We all join in, much too low, and Caruso’s face is like thunder. He was thinking more along the lines of a tuneful The Holly and The Ivy in rounds.
The pub rapidly empties of customers. We fear people with tickets for the concert at the weekend might soon be asking for a refund.
And then, like a saviour, Caruso redeems us all with a beautiful rendition of William Butler Yeats’ poem, He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, in song.
Mr Putter makes an emotional speech about how much he has enjoyed our singing evenings, expresses his deep love for Caruso (but not in a weird way as he squeezes the knee of his fragrant wife) and we all applaud.
Caruso thanks me, of all people, because some months ago after Dudley’s wake and too many glasses of wine I persuaded him to revive the choir.
We raise our glasses to dear Dudley’s memory, a wine bottle falls over – rather like Dudley used to after too many glasses of Grand Marnier – and then Caruso sneezes five times in a row.
One more and it would have been equivalent to an orgasm.
My dears, oh what a rock star life I do lead.
That’s about it
Love Maddie x
As I write, it’s a mad scramble to get things done before heading off on the annual weekend trip to North Devon. In years gone by, there w...
Everyone loves a good police drama. And there's one going on right now in the village square outside my window. I'm so excited I...
Once upon a time, when I was fit, I cycled up to the most wonderful place on earth. It's in West Dorset and, when you get to the to...
A friend of mine has run into a spot of bother. He's been quoted in a national newspaper article highlighting the negatives of livi...
As my watch ticked towards six o'clock, we eased off from the pontoon, out through the twin piers and into the open sea. With the gl...